


Too Many Holmeses

by fortify_countrye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Immaturity, John takes it all admirably, RIP John Watson's sanity, Siblings, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortify_countrye/pseuds/fortify_countrye
Summary: John thinks that one Holmes is enough, two is pushing it and three would be just too many. Good thing there aren’t three.A short fic about what happens when the third Holmes brother drops out of nonexistence and into John's life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A short cracky one-shot I wrote after wondering what a third brother, one even more immature than Sherlock, would bring to John's life.

 

John freezes in the entrance to 221B, eyes locked on Sherlock who was sitting on the sofa.

“Sherlock,” he says. “Did you change your hair?”

It was a stupid question because it was very obvious that Sherlock’s hair was different. It was shorter, for one, and not ridiculously curly, parted on the side, tamed. It was a respectable, if somewhat plain, hairstyle. Almost similar to Mycroft’s, actually.

“No,” Sherlock drawls back, mouth barely opening.

“No?” John asks dubiously.

“No.”

John flounders for a second in disbelief. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“He means ‘no, he isn’t Sherlock, go away’.”

The doctor startles, eyes now falling on the second Sherlock who was looking very amused from the kitchen doorway. He looks back across the room at the first Sherlock again, the fake one.

“Unfortunately Sherry is incapable of actually _communicating_ with people,” Sherlock remarks pointedly.

“‘Sherry’?” John wonders but is ignored.

“Sorry, Sherly, for attempting to have my own life,” Sherry snaps, sitting up straighter and glaring at Sherlock. “Why exactly do you and Mycroft insist I need to be _babysat_?”

“‘ _Sherly_ ’?”

“Roll up your sleeve and ask me again,” Sherlock sneers.

Sherry leaps off the couch and takes two great strides towards Sherlock, teeth and fists clenched. “You’re such a hypocrite!” he growls, grabbing Sherlock’s lapels.

Sherlock doesn’t react but John is very ready to step in no matter how confused he is.

“Both of you stop it!”

John actually screams a little bit when a new voice speaks in his ear. He whirls around, ready to throw a punch, only to find Mycroft. He considers throwing the punch anyway because he always wants to punch Mycroft a little bit.

Mycroft looks annoyed, nothing unusual there, and is eyeing his two brothers with resignation. “Why can’t the two of you ever get along?”

“Oh yes,” Sherlock remarks. “Because _our_ relationship is so much better, Mycroft.”

“ _We_ don’t get into physical confrontations every time we see each other, _Sherlock_.”

“If Sherlock could mind his own business for once we wouldn’t need to fight.”

“If Sherrinford could control his ridiculous drug habits I wouldn’t need to be in his ‘business’!”

“Both of you need to grow up,” Mycroft states, earning himself two glares. “I can imagine Mummy now. ‘ _If you’d spent more time at home, Mycroft’. ‘You should have encouraged them to play together more, Mycroft’_. ‘ _All of your friends were bad influences, Mycroft’_.”

John is more surprised that Mycroft is actually complaining about their mother than he is that Mycroft bothered to change his voice and accent to do so. John couldn’t deny that when Mycroft did something he did it thoroughly.

Both Sherlock and Sherrinford roll their eyes at their older brother.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so eager to please other people,” Sherrinford says.

“I have to agree. You spend too much time worrying about other people’s opinions, Mycroft.”

John wants to say ‘See? They _can_ get along,’ but a second later they’re fighting again.

“Did I _ask_ you to agree with me? No, I didn’t.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Sherlock groans. “Do you see what I have to put up with, John? Can you imagine my childhood?”

“Er, no,” John says because he really doesn’t want to imagine it at all.

“ _Your_ childhood?!” Sherrinford cries. “I was always blamed for everything you did!”

Mycroft scoffs. “ _You_ were blamed?!”

And then he starts imitating their mother again and Sherlock starts yelling about drugs and Sherrinford is pointing between his two brothers mooing like a cow and suddenly John has had enough.

“Shut it!” he screams.

All three of them have their mouths open, paused in their complaints out of sheer surprise. John points to the armchairs, order clear.

“I don’t know if you’re smart enough to count, John, but there are only _two_ chairs,” Sherrinford says, sounding _too_ much like a teenage girl.

“Don’t talk to John like that,” Sherlock growls, taking a step forward.

“Sherlock!” John warns.

“John!” Sherlock retorts, motioning to Sherrinford.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft groans.

“Mycroft!” Sherrinford sneers sarcastically just to get in on it.

“Sit!” John yells.

There is a brief pause and then the three brothers are sprinting for the chairs. With a ‘hah!’ of victory Mycroft claims John’s armchair, only managing to do so because Sherrinford and Sherlock are fighting over the other.

Eventually Sherrinford gets his arse on the seat and Sherlock stands up straight in defeat. He scowls at Sherrinford for a moment, crosses his arms and sits down on the floor, looking exactly like a five-year-old that lost an argument with their mother at the shop over which cereal was going to get bought.

“Now,” John says calmly. “What exactly is all of this fighting about?”

He doesn’t receive and answer.

“That’s what I thought. You’re just fighting for the sake of it!”

“Stop yelling,” Sherrinford mutters drily. “You’ll make me cry.”

“Oh, do shut up, Sherry,” Sherlock rolls his eyes.

“You’re only eight minutes older than me, Sherlock. _You_ shut up.”

“Stop,” John cuts in. “Let’s start from the start, shall we? Sherlock, you never told me you had a twin brother.”

“He isn’t important. _Why_ would I mention him?”

Sherrinford folds his arms and scowls. “Likewise, Sherly, _I_ tell people I’m an only child.”

“Excuse me,” Mycroft protests, mildly offended by the statement.

“Well, why didn’t _you_ mention him then, Mycroft?” John demands.

Mycroft waves a hand. “Because he never came up in conversation.”

John blinks and takes a breath. “Okay then. Why is Sherrinford here then?”

“He just got out of rehab,” Sherlock says. “Again.”

Sherrinford clicks his tongue. “There goes the hypocrite running his mouth again.”

“ _I’ve_ only been to rehab _once_. What are you up to now? Four times?”

“Three,” Sherrinford retorts sharply. “Forget how to count?”

“Okay, okay,” John says, hand up because Sherlock begins to rise immediately. “That didn’t answer the question. Why is he _here_?”

“Nowhere else to go,” Sherrinford says simply. “I should be able to rely on my big brother, shouldn’t I?”

Sherrinford punctuates the rhetoric by roughing up Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock pushes him away and stands up to create even more distance.

“You can’t stay here.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t you go bother Mycroft?” Sherlock demands.

“You didn’t tell me why!”

“Perhaps I just don’t want you here.”

“That’s not a good enough reason.”

“Perhaps John and I like to have very loud sex.”

 “You and John aren’t a couple,” Sherrinford states, surprise in his voice.

Mycroft and Sherrinford both sit up straighter, eyes darting between the detective and the doctor. Sherlock smirks in response and John feels like his soul has left his body in mortification.

“You aren’t together,” Mycroft mutters.

“You seem unsure,” Sherlock grins triumphantly.

“Sherlock,” John protests.

“Hah!” Sherrinford cries. “Not together!”

Sherlock tuts and Mycroft seems relieved, probably glad he hadn’t been missing something this whole time.

“Well,” Sherrinford says smugly. “I guess I’m staying here for a while.”

“That was never decided!” Sherlock thunders, actually stomping his foot in protest like a five-year-old.

All at once John is exhausted. “Oh, just let him stay! He’ll never shut up otherwise.”

It’s Sherlock’s turn to look smug, pleased that John is starting to choose a side that isn’t Sherrinford’s. And then the first part of John’s statement catches up to him and he glowers instead.

“No,” he says flatly.

“Sounds perfect,” Mycroft claps, already striding towards the door. “I’ll tell Mummy.”

Sherlock glares after him for only a second before turning to give John a look he can only describe as ‘betrayed’. After that he only remains in the room long enough to give Sherrinford the two-fingered salute before storming off to his bedroom.

Sherrinford looks very proud of himself as he settles down more comfortably in Sherlock’s chair. “Tea, please,” he demands.

And that’s how long it takes John to regret his decision.

 

**Bonus:**

Sherlock normally draws a lot of attention at crime scenes but today his appearance causes an uproar.

“There’s fucking two of them!” Anderson cries in alarm.

Sherrinford and Sherlock fix him with equal looks if disdain before moving on while John does his best not to giggle to himself as he follows. Lestrade seems to be dumbstruck when he sees the pair and simply stares until they get close enough to speak.

“This is Sherrinford,” Sherlock states.

“And he’s your… brother?” the DI asks.

“Obviously,” two voices drawl.

“Your identical twin brother?”

“He’s stupider than you’ve described, Sherly,” Sherrinford says.

“ _Sherly_?” several people demand before sniggering to themselves.

“Boys,” John cuts in, seeing the biting remark rising on Sherlock’s lips.

Sherlock and Sherrinford glare at each other for a few more seconds before the detective turns back to Lestrade.

“Body?”

Lestrade points at the roof. “Upstairs.”

Sherlock immediately turns and stalks towards the stairs near the entrance. Sherrinford makes a mocking face and follows, making a whooshing sound and throwing his arms back to imitate Sherlock’s coat.

“You have my condolences,” Lestrade says, patting John’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” John replies, actually touched because this might have been the slowest week of his entire life. Hilarious in the immaturity, yes, but still very, _very_ slow.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As with all my fics, feedback is welcome. Thank you for reading (^_^)


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